


You're Waiting For Me

by shipsandthings



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Lots of plot, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-20 19:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2440733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipsandthings/pseuds/shipsandthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Troye is the freshman from Australia who's way out of his depth. Connor is the sophomore from Minnesota who's still trying to get over last year's heartbreak. Tyler and Korey are the cool RAs with a running bet over who can set up the most couples by the end of the year. Bethany is the new girl who's secretly a lot smarter than anyone thinks. Caspar is undeclared and unattached.<br/>Where do they all intersect? College.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Troye in Wonderland

Troye Sivan had always dreamed of America—New York City specifically. He pictured the cloud-piercing skyscrapers, the busy streets crowded with pedestrians, the bright lights of Broadway, and the endless rows of restaurants and shopping centers. It had always been his favorite place, the city he'd most like to visit.

But he never expected that the first time he actually made it all the way to New York City he would be eighteen, alone, and totally lost on move-in day at New York University. He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and an overstuffed suitcase—all the baggage he could take on the endless flights from Perth, Australia, to the East Coast of the United States. At this point, he couldn't remember whether it had been three or four flights at this point. He just knew he'd been up for about 48 hours and had no idea what was going on.

“Hey, are you a freshman? Do you need any help?” asked a friendly American voice. The accent still surprised Troye, having lived in Australia most of his life, but now he was in another country. He'd have to get used to it. He glanced up at the man who spoke and was struck by his neon purple hair. Was that a common thing in America?  
“Um, I'm new,” Troye managed. His voice sounded sluggish and low, obviously from the lack of sleep. He coughed awkwardly to clear his throat.

“Oh my god, are you foreign?” chirped the man cheerfully. Troye assumed he was a student, but he clearly had his shit together and wasn't a lowly freshman like himself. He looked like he had to be either a junior or senior.

Troye nodded. “I'm from Perth, Australia. This is my first time in America.”

“Well, welcome!” cried the man. “My name's Tyler. I'm a senior, and I'm one of the RA's on the eighth floor. If you need any help, you can ask me or anyone else in these red shirts.” He pointed at his chest helpfully, which read NYU Resident Association in big letters.

“Oh, I'm on the eighth floor,” Troye said. At least he could remember his room number.

“How lucky!” Tyler cried. He patted him on the shoulder and grinned widely. Troye had always thought Americans seemed friendly and open from what he'd seen, so he was glad to be proven right. “We're going to be getting to know each other very well this year, I can tell,” added Tyler. “Now, you seem lost. First thing, you have to check in over there.” He pointed to a table with a couple students sitting behind it. “Good luck!”

Taking Tyler's instructions, Troye gave his name to a boy with gravity-defying brown hair named Joey, who checked him off a long list of names. “Okay, Troye, now you're all set. You can take the elevators over there up to your floor. Use your ID card to unlock the door to your room. If you need any more help, just come back downstairs and someone will help you.”

Troye nodded his thanks and followed the crowd to the elevators. Dozens of students were waiting for one of the four elevators to come back down to the first floor. He was staying in one of the biggest residence buildings, with twenty floors, so it took a while for the elevators to get to everyone.

He leaned against the wall, still feeling like a zombie from lack of sleep when he noticed there was someone standing in front of him. “Oh, um, sorry?” Troye said, snapping back to reality.

“I just wanted to say hi and introduce myself. I'm Bethany. I'm a freshman.” Troye blinked a couple times to clear his sleepy vision before he reached out his right hand to the small brunette girl in front of him. Awkwardly, she took his hand in a handshake. “Nice to meet you,” she said.

“Sorry, I'm Troye. I'm just really tired and weird and foreign and unable to understand American greetings.”

The girl laughed, her grin lighting up her face. “Are you a freshman too?”

“Yeah, it's my first time in America actually.”

“Wow, where are you from? Australia?”

“Yep, I live in Perth, but I was born in South Africa actually.”

“Oh my gosh, that's so cool,” said Bethany. “And I thought I was coming from far away. I'm from California.”

“Well, that's a long way too. I'm guessing it's your first time being away from home?”

“Mhm.” Bethany nodded and looked a little sad. “I flew here all by myself. I'm doing okay right now, but I can tell I'm going to miss my family a lot.”

“I feel the same way.” Then the elevator beside them beeped before its silver metal doors slid open. Immediately, a stream of people crowded inside, including Troye and Bethany. “What's your floor?” he asked her as he pressed the 8th floor button.

“Eight,” she said. “Just like you.” Smiling, she poked him teasingly in the side. “I can tell this is going to be great.”

“Me too,” Troye said, barely feeling tired any longer. Now, he was excited to meet his roommate and all his floor mates and just get started with this next chapter in his life. When the elevator stopped on the eighth floor, he, Bethany, and a couple more students filed out.

As it turned out, he and Bethany lived only a few doors down from each other. They waved goodbye for now as they entered into their respective rooms to unpack. Troye pressed his ID card against the scanner until it beeped and unlocked. When he pulled the door open, he found that his roommate was already there and was lying on his unmade bed, fast asleep.

With his head buried in an unpacked duffel bag, sprawled across the bed on his stomach, his entire face was obscured to Troye. All he could really tell was that his roommate was very tall, very blond, and very asleep. Unsure whether he should wake him or not, Troye quietly placed his bags on the floor and took a look around his room.

It wasn't big, obviously, but it was certainly livable. There was a twin bed with some drawers underneath for storage, a desk, a mini-fridge and microwave, and a decent-sized closet. He was glad to see the bedding and lamp he'd ordered from the school had arrived and were sitting on his bed.

Troye was about to go about organizing his room when his roommate rolled over and fixed his blue-eyed gaze on him. “Hello,” he said in a low-pitched voice.

“Um, hi,” Troye replied, offering him an awkward wave. This was one of things he had been nervous about coming to college. He was worried his roommate and him wouldn't get along. Right now he was totally unsure how to read this kid. “I'm Troye. I'm from Perth, Australia, and I'm a music and drama double major.” Well, that was him, summed up in two sentences. He waited for his roommate to speak.

After a few seconds, the other boy yawned, his mouth wide like a cat's. Then he rubbed his eyes with his fists before finally saying, “My name's Caspar Lee.”

Suddenly, Troye's face lit up with excitement as he heard his roommate's voice. “Wait a second, are you from South Africa? I was born there!”

“Really?” the boy said in his striking accent. “That's so cool!”

Troye was grateful the awkwardness between them was broken by what they had in common. “What a coincidence,” Troye said. “So, what are you majoring in?”

“Dunno yet,” replied Caspar, sitting up on the bed. “I'm undeclared and unattached.”

“Oh, okay. Do you have any ideas about what you might want to do?”

“I've seen a few people I might like to do, but as for majors, nope. Everything seems equally interesting... or uninteresting to me.”

“I see...” Troye trailed off. He was entirely unsure what to think of Caspar. He couldn't tell whether he was being sarcastic or if this was his actual personality. “Well, I'm just going to make my bed, so yeah.”

 

* * *

 

After about an hour, Troye had his room how he wanted it. He'd made his bed up in his navy blue comforter, stuck the photographs of his family and friends on his wall, and organized his desk. While he'd organized, Caspar had laid on his bed, with its still naked and probably bacteria-ridden mattress, and asked him questions. They chatted and got to know each other a bit. Troye saw that Caspar was far from the roommate from hell he'd dreaded, but he wasn't sure if they would be best friends forever either. Still, based on first impressions, it seemed like they'd get along just fine.

“Okay, I'm gonna go meet the floor,” Caspar said finally. He leaped up from the bed and Troye was surprised by just how much he towered over him. Against his will, he gulped as his gaze darted upwards to meet his roommate's eyes.

“Really? You haven't set up your room yet.”

“It'll get done,” Caspar replied, waving at his messy side of the room. Then, with lumbering steps, he opened the door and left.

Once the door swung closed with a slam, Troye closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Then he thought to himself, _You are not going to fall for your roommate. That's a cliché, stupid, and it would only make things awkward._ It wasn't that Caspar was Troye's “type” at all. The thing was, Troye had a bad habit of falling too fast for the wrong guy, and he wasn't going to let that happen again. Not in America, not in college, not this time.

Then he opened his eyes, and he was fine. One day, he'd find the right guy, and he could move on. Caspar definitely wasn't it, judging by the way he thirstily described all the cute girls he'd met during his three hours on campus. Good things came to those who waited, and Troye was going to be patient until he found what he was looking for.

After putting the finishing touches on his side of the room, and glancing over at the unpacked boxes and empty snack wrappers on Caspar's side, Troye tucked his ID into his pocket and ventured out into the hallway. Already, a bunch of students were hanging out in the lounge, chatting and getting to know each other. Troye was about to try and introduce himself when a familiar shock of neon purple hair made its appearance.

“Hello, everyone!” said the familiar American voice. “My name's Tyler, and I'm going to be your guys' RA. I'm currently a senior, majoring in Communications, so I know basically everything there is to know about NYU. If you have any questions or problems, I'm your first resource. Come meet me whenever! My room number is 814, right over there.”

Troye spotted Bethany from across the room. He offered her a wave and a smile which she returned. Sure, they'd only had one short conversation, but she seemed like a relaxed, cool girl he could get along with. She reminded him of some of his friends back home. Wanting to continue their chat, Troye started to weave through the crowd to get closer to her.

That was when, while he wasn't looking, he accidentally ran right into someone else, a boy about his height.

“I'm originally from Michigan,” Tyler said, continuing his life story. “I'm also the president of NYU's LGBTQA club, so if you would like to join, I can tell you all the details...”

But Troye wasn't listening anymore. Because he was staring into the green eyes of possibly the cutest boy he had ever seen. His stomach clenched, his feet locked in place, and his mouth hung open dumbly. Troye felt his face turn red as he struggled to look casual, normal, anything but dumbstruck and stupid.

“Oh, hey there, my name's Connor,” said the boy, completely oblivious to the awkwardness of their situation. He extended his hand for Troye to shake, but he found himself unable to move.

“Excuse me, children, your RA is talking,” Tyler said sarcastically. “Anyway, as I was saying, quiet hours are from 10 PM to 8 AM on weekdays...”

Quieter, the boy said, “Once again, I'm Connor. I'm a sophomore. I guess they decided to mix up the years on the floors, cuz I've met some juniors and some freshmen here too. What's your name?”

“My name is... Troye.” He blushed. His long pause made it seem like he'd forgotten his name. “Sorry, I'm just kind of out of it.”

“Yeah, I'm super tired too. I flew in from Minnesota this morning.”

“I flew in from Australia.”

Connor laughed. “You've certainly got me beat then.” The way he smiled, straight white teeth and eyes lighting up, Troye knew he was a goner. He balled his hands into fists and willed his heart beat to slow down, his face to cool down to normal.

“Ahem,” coughed Tyler, fixing the two of them with a glare from behind his black-framed glasses. “Y'all have the whole year to flirt. I'm just asking for five minutes of your time.”

“Sorry, Ty,” Connor called out, ducking his head bashfully.

“Apology accepted, Con,” replied Tyler. Troye narrowed his eyebrows. So, they already knew each other and had friendly nicknames. He let out a soft sigh. Connor was a sophomore, and he probably already had tons of connections around campus. There was basically zero chance that Troye, the awkward foreign freshman, would appeal to him.

After Tyler finished going over the eighth floor rules, he smiled and waved the residents away to continue getting unpacked and begin socializing. As the crowd dispersed, Troye quickly shuffled away from Connor, his eyes on the ground, and walked toward Bethany.

“Are you done fixing up your room?” she asked when they met by the corner of the room, underneath the flat-screen TV hung on the wall.

“Yeah, I'm pretty much done,” Troye said.

“Oh, I'm not. I have a bunch of DIYs planned. I need to make a Target run to get some fairy lights, construction paper, yarn, pipe cleaners, superglue, and rainbow paperclips. They wouldn't fit in my suitcases.” At Troye's raised eyebrows, Bethany said, “What? I just like my surroundings to look pretty. Then of course I'll have to redecorate for Fall...”

Troye laughed. He liked Bethany so far, but he definitely didn't get her obsession with decorating. A few months in, her room would be covered in notes and textbooks and empty coffee cups anyway. Then she started talking about her color scheme and planned DIYs, and Troye chanced a quick glance around the lounge. Most of the students had cleared out, gone back to their rooms or gone out of the dorm all together. Tyler was still there, though, talking to an older looking student with a dark beard.

“You know, that boy you were talking to was kind of cute,” Bethany said, snapping Troye's attention back to her.

He felt his stomach tighten with the memory. He opened his mouth to brush off her comment or change the subject but no sound came out. Clamping his mouth shut, Troye attempted to act naturally. Bethany raised her eyebrows and studied him for a moment before she said, “Wait, do you like him?”

“Like him? We said like ten words to each other. How could I know if I wanted to be... friends with him yet?”

“Friends?” she said with a smirk of knowing.

“Damn it, Beth.” Troye sighed. All of a sudden, he realized this girl was a lot more than he'd assumed from when they chatted while waiting for an elevator. She was something else, he could already tell.

Bethany smiled, having figured him out. “So you're gay? Or bi?” she asked. “Not that it matters or anything of course, I just want to...”

“Yeah, I'm gay,” Troye replied. “Everyone pretty much knew back at my old school, but I guess I'll have to go through that process about twenty thousand times now that I'm here.”

“It's really no one's business. Plus, I mean, we're in New York. It's practically the most gay-friendly city in America.” She patted him lightly on the shoulder. “And if you like that boy, or any other boy, I will make it my mission to help you get him.”

Troye flushed, becoming uncomfortable. Bethany barely knew him, and already she was going out of the way for him. Going strictly by individual case studies, Americans were the friendliest people ever. “You don't have to do that. Plus, I know nothing about Connor. He'd probably like you more than me.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Troye, you are like ten times prettier than me, and you're a guy. It's totally unfair.”

“No, I'm not.” He figured she'd want a compliment then. Girls liked compliments, he'd found. He was about to return the gesture when she continued talking.

“I know we've been on campus for only a few hours, but whenever things start happening, with whoever it happens to be, I'll be here for you. We can talk all about it.”

“Okay,” Troye said. He wondered how he'd gotten so lucky to find a friend so fast. He was about to suggest they grab lunch—he was starving—when Tyler and the boy he was talking to strolled over to them.

“Hi, guys,” Tyler said with a smile. “This is my friend, Korey. He's the RA for the other half of this floor.”

“Hi,” Korey said.

“Korey, this is Troye,” Tyler said. “And this is...”

“Bethany,” she filled in.

“Well, we couldn't help but overhear your conversation...” Tyler said. “I know this is kind of awkward, but I would just like to offer a little word of advice. First of all, Troye, I'd be honored if you would attend the first meeting of the LGBTQA club on September 5th...”

Troye felt himself blushing. He hadn't exactly offered that information to Tyler. It wasn't like he was ashamed of himself—he was past that point of his life—but he found the suggestion a bit sudden and rude.

“Secondly, NYU's campus is huge! I encourage the both of you to go on a little boy-hunting field trip. That's how me and Korey first bonded. And if one of the boys won't go for one of you, he most likely will go for the other. Unless he's asexual, as we should never ignore the A portion of LGBTQA.”

Tyler had the rare ability of making everything he said sound like an advertisement. Troye and Bethany nodded as Tyler continued to rattle on the details about the club he was the president of. While Tyler babbled, Korey rolled his eyes and made faces behind him, which brought a grin to both of their faces.

“I'll definitely see if it fits my schedule,” Troye said after there was finally a beat of silence.

“Great,” Tyler said. “I can already tell you two will be my freshie favorites.” He looked like he barely restrained himself from pinching their cheeks. “Connor was my favorite freshman last year. Oh, and Alfie too, but then he joined the British frat and I haven't seen him in _ages.”_

 _  
_“The British frat?” asked Bethany, her eyes practically lighting up.

“Yeah. Kappa Sigma Pi isn't totally British, there's like one American maybe, but that's what we all call it. They throw the best parties on campus, and they're beautiful. I mean, some of them are just okay, but their accents are just...” Tyler fanned himself at the thought.

“They kind of rule the school,” Korey added. “If you're in with them, you're in.”

Troye had seen plenty of glamorized movies about American colleges, but he'd never felt the urge to join a fraternity. It just seemed like a bunch of drinking and parties and loud music and... girls. Which weren't part of his plan, aside from friends. He didn't think he'd really fit in with a frat.

“But we're getting off topic. About the first meeting of my club, I mean, the club...”

 

* * *

 

The next few days flew past. Classes hadn't started yet, so Troye had a chance to figure out where the various buildings on campus were and check out all the dining halls. He and Bethany explored the surrounding area, and even took the crowded subway a few stops to check out Times Square. Having never been to America before, Troye fell deeper in love with the city by the day.

That night he and Bethany stayed up late in his room, gossiping. Caspar was out, like he usually was. Somehow, he'd already gotten the inside line on all the hottest parties, and he went out most nights and didn't get back until Troye was asleep. He'd made friends with a British sophomore named Joe, and they hit the town night after night.

“I'm telling you, I had lunch in the dining hall, and I saw literally the cutest boy I think I've ever seen,” Bethany said. “He had light brown hair, green eyes...”

“That literally describes so many boys here.”

“He was British. London accent, I think. And he was so well-dressed...”

“Wait,” Troye said, remembering one boy he'd briefly met. “I might know who you're thinking of. Was his name Jack?”

Bethany shook her head. “No, it was Finn.”

“Oh, I guess I'm thinking of someone else. But Jack is really, really beautiful.” Troye stared at the ceiling and let out a sigh. “Like everyone here is freakishly good looking.”

“Um, look who's talking,” Bethany said, shoving him lightly in the shoulder. “Don't even act like you don't know you're adorable.”

“You're pretty adorable too.”

“No girl wants to be just adorable in college,” she said, looking down at her lap and pulling on the hem of her t-shirt.

“Well, too bad, Bethany, you're fricking adorable, and that's that.” Troye was about to change the subject to _another_ cute boy he saw in the library when the door to his dorm was pulled open suddenly. Caspar stumbled inside, obviously drunk. The smell of hard liquor wafted off of him, the heavy scent hitting Troye's nose as he inhaled.

“Hey, Troye,” Caspar said, his voice even lower than usual. As his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he spotted Bethany sitting beside him on the bed. “Hey, Betty.”

“It's Beth,” she corrected quietly. She'd told him that more than a couple times, but he never remembered.

Then Caspar took the few steps it took to reach his bed and promptly flopped down on it, flat on his face. They both stared at him for a moment as he lay there still as a corpse before Bethany scooted off the edge of the bed and retrieved her purse from Troye's desk. She slipped the strap over her head and said, “Well, I think that's my cue to leave.”

Troye glanced over at Caspar, unsure if he was dead or alive, conscious or unconscious. “That might be for the best...”

“See you tomorrow?” she asked, already halfway to the door.

“Yeah, for sure.”

When the door fell shut behind Bethany, Caspar flipped over on his bed, opened his eyes, and looked straight at Troye. He raised his eyebrows and gestured in the direction of the door, flashing him a thumbs up. Great.

“We're not together,” Troye said flatly, hoping to dispel the wrong idea. He was pretty sure he'd hinted pretty strongly that he was gay to his roommate before, but Caspar wasn't exactly the most perceptive guy he knew.

Caspar laughed, probably a lot harder than he would have if he was sober. Troye felt a little uncomfortable after he didn't stop for thirty seconds. Finally, Caspar recovered and said, “Of course you're not together, but you're _together.”_

“Um, not really.”

“You're _lying_ to me...” Caspar said before dissolving into giggles. Troye stared at him from his bed until he stopped finding the truth funny. Finally, Caspar coughed and added, “Okay, I'm tired. G'night.”

“Good night,” Troye replied, but he was already snoring.

 

* * *

 

It was the Sunday before classes started when Troye walked into the on-campus Starbucks, surveyed the students seated at the tables, and froze. Because sitting at one of the booths, sipping on some iced coffee concoction, was Connor. It wasn't like Troye hadn't seen him since move-in day. They'd passed in the halls, stepped in the same elevator, even nodded to each other as they walked through campus.

But there was this weird thing Troye did whenever he saw him. His rationality flew out the window, his body tightened up, and his words lodged in his throat. It was becoming a problem. Taking a deep breath, Troye attempted to casually walk towards the counter to place his order, but he still felt slightly unhinged just by the sight of one boy he'd exchanged a few words with.

It was crazy, wasn't it? Boys didn't usually have this effect on him—though who was he kidding, they totally did.

Troye glanced at the names of the coffees, trying to decide what to get. He decided on an iced vanilla latte, to counteract the summer heat. There were still two people ahead of him, so Troye waited patiently.

That was, until a voice behind him said, “I've been staring down that brownie from across that room for like ten minutes. I had to give in. It seduced me.”

The voice was strangely familiar. Glancing over his shoulder, Troye saw that it was none other than Connor, green eyes alight. He was wearing one of the university seal t-shirts, which clung to his body just so. Troye swallowed the lump in his throat, ignored his pounding heart, and managed to say, “... yeah.”

“What're you getting?” Connor asked, just as the lady at the cash register said, “Next in line.”

Stepping forward, Troye ordered his drink, his voice sounding strained. “Small iced vanilla latte.”

“That's a tall,” the woman corrected him as she grabbed the proper cup and scrawled his order on the side with black sharpie.

“You really aren't from around here,” Connor said with a smirk after ordering his brownie and taking it from the barista. Troye swayed in his spot while he waited for his latte to be ready.

“They have Starbucks in Australia,” he said. His voice sounded slightly clearer than before. “I just don't go there much.”

“I think you mean 'I don't go at all.' Baristas are, like, required by law to correct you if you try to use the 'small, medium, large' measurement system.” Connor took a large bite of his double chocolate brownie and closed his eyes in pleasure as he tasted it, and wow, this was giving Troye way too many ideas, way too many images. He stared straight ahead at the counter, willing his drink to be prepared so he would have some distraction from the boy standing beside him.

“Tall iced vanilla latte,” said the barista, sliding the drink across the counter. Troye snatched it up and thanked her. He was about to jet out of there before he embarrassed himself, but Connor was still there, looking at him. And he was frozen.

“Hey, do you wanna talk?” Connor asked abruptly. He gestured towards his table, marked by his backpack and a half-finished drink. “I feel like I see you everywhere, but we haven't really talked since move-in day. And even that wasn't much.”

“I—I, um...”

“If you have somewhere to be, of course, don't let me keep you. I just figured I'd ask.”

And Connor, looking at him with an expression of genuine interest and curiosity, was too much to resist. Troye pushed the fear of embarrassment out of his mind and said with as much confidence as he could muster, “Sure, that sounds great.”

 

 


	2. Connor, Though the Looking Glass

Connor wasn't sure what exactly pulled him towards Troye. Of course, he had been initially drawn in by his accent, then his eyes, but there was something more beyond appearance, beyond surface details that kept him intrigued all these days later. All he knew was he had to get to know him better.

It was pretty much serendipitous that they ran across each other in the campus Starbucks, which was pretty much Connor's favorite place in all of NYU. Which was maybe kind of sad being that it was just a chain coffee shop, but what could he say? He was a caffeine addict, and there was no going back now.

So when Connor looked up from his phone and saw Troye standing in line at the counter, he had immediately hopped up from his chair and decided he need that brownie sitting in the glass pastry case. It was pretty much an excuse, though the brownie did turn out to be quite good.

And now they were sitting together at his table, so it had turned out according to plan. “You said you were from Australia, right? Which city?” he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Troye nodded. “I'm from Perth. It's in Western Australia, in case you didn't know.”

“Actually, I didn't know. Americans are generally shit about the geography of other countries. And their own, sadly enough.”

Smiling, Troye added, “Well, it's a really nice city. I miss it a lot, though New York is great too... Fun fact, Bon Iver wrote a song called 'Perth'.”

“Oh, I knew I'd heard that name before! Bon Iver is like my God, so I'm definitely very familiar with... the word.” Connor tilted his head to the side, studied Troye for a second, his eyes darting across his features. Yes, there really was something about him that he couldn't put his finger on. “By the way, I'm from Minnesota, land of a thousand lakes.”

“I think you mentioned that before.”

“Really? I'm surprised you remembered.”

Troye pursed his lips and all at once, Connor wished he could read minds. Then he could know where they stood, what to say next. Instead he just asked, “So, what's your major? I feel like that's what everyone asks, but I really want to know.”

“I'm a music and drama double major,” Troye replied. “That's kind of why I came to New York. There are a lot more opportunities in the entertainment world over here.”

“Wow, that's really cool. You must be like really talented.”

Troye shrugged and glanced at the floor. “I don't know. It's just what I like to do.”

“You're so modest. I'm sure you're great.” Connor didn't know that of course, but he was willing to bet anything that Troye had talent. He could sense it somehow. He paused for a second before saying, “I'm a journalism and photography double major. So, really different stuff.”

Troye grinned though and cocked his head to the side when he asked, “I love photography, and journalism sounds really cool. What kind of stories do you like to write?”

“I mean, I've only had a few journalism classes so far. I'm not totally sure what type of reporting I'd like to do, but I really love getting to just sit down with people and talk, you know? Figure them out.”

Troye grinned, and the blue in his eyes seemed to alight. “Is that what you're doing right now? Figuring me out? Is this a secret interview?”

“Once you decide to become a journalist, it's like every conversation could be an interview if you know what to do with it. But no, that was not the purpose of this chat. I'm just saying that, in general, human stories really get to me. Not weird sensationalist things or hard-hitting current events. Just... people. People are great.”

“I like that,” Troye said.

“Well, thanks,” Connor said. He glanced down at his coffee so he didn't have to look into that face anymore. He took a long sip of his iced latte to distract himself and for some reason felt heat rise in his cheeks. Why was this freshman he'd only met a few days ago affecting him so much? Now this, this wasn't part of the plan.

 

* * *

 

They talked for about half an hour more, though it felt like the blink of an eye to Connor. But when he looked down, his coffee was gone and so was Troye's. Though he didn't want to, he bade him goodbye, saying something about the time. He wanted to keep talking, but he'd felt sick to his stomach and nervous. Connor had started remembering, and that was never a good thing.

“Yeah, um, I'll see you around then?” Troye said, picking up his empty cup. The ice cubes rattled around the plastic sides. “You know, on the eighth floor?”

“Definitely,” Connor said, sliding the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. For some reason, his cheeks felt hot and his stomach clenched with nervousness. Things like this— casual conversations with people he maybe liked—never used to go this way.

Now they always did. Things went perfectly until they didn't, until anxiety peppered across his throat and his skin bristled with too much, too soon.

“I can walk you back if you want, um...” Connor could tell his tone of voice wasn't exactly welcoming.

“No, that's okay,” Troye said. “I wanted to stop by the library first anyway.”

“Okay, okay,” Connor said, trying to sound cheerful. He waved to him awkwardly. “See you around, Troye boy.” At that ridiculous nickname, slipping past his lips before he could stop it, Connor turned his back and hustled out of the Starbucks, face flaming. Why did he always act like this? He was practically smooth for the first few minutes, then it dissolved into nerves and awkwardness and messiness.

But he knew why. He just didn't like to think about it.

Connor hiked across campus to get back to the dorm, feeling his body calm down with every step. By the time he stepped into the elevator, everything was back to normal. Why couldn't it have happened ten minutes earlier?

Then the second Connor pulled open the door to his room, his roommate whined, “Con, classes start tomorrow. I can't do it. I'm going to die.”

“You made it through last year, Kian. You can do it.”

“No, I can't.” He groaned dramatically and said, “I don't think I'm cut out for this.”

And Connor didn't say anything in reply, because to be honest he wasn't sure Kian was cut out for the whole college thing either. He was a Chemistry major for some reason, even though Kian hated homework and math and generally everything about chemistry. But Connor didn't say anything because he was his friend and roommate, and that would be mean.

Kian, with some effort, managed to sit up on his bed. His hair was messy and flat against his head, and his shirt looked wrinkled. At Connor's raised eyebrows, he admitted, “I didn't leave the bed all day. Except to pee.”

“Wonderful.” Connor took a seat on his own bed, which was neatly made in a sharp contrast to Kian's side of the room. “I didn't do much either. I just got some coffee and walked around the city for a bit. You know, before homework and classes set in.”

“I slept all day, you know, before homework and classes set in.” Kian threw him a cheeky grin. Then his phone buzzed, a text notification. “But at least I made some virtual progress with this cute freshman. I got her number yesterday, and at the rate things are going...” He trailed off, and Connor was glad he didn't have to hear about it. “By the way, have you seen anyone that strikes you yet? I mean, you've gotta be over that girl by now.”

At Kian's off-hand comment, Connor felt his heart pang in his chest and a flush rise to his cheeks. And it wasn't just from the memory of what had hurt him in the past—it was the memory of the blue eyes that were bound to haunt him in the future. “Uh, I haven't been seriously looking. Classes haven't even started yet. I don't know who I'm going to run into, what's going to work. I have to see what happens.”

“You don't have to see what happens. You have to make things happen.” Kian seemed surprisingly serious for still being in his pajamas. He looked Connor right in the eyes as he said, “That's what happened with you and Natalie. You went after her.”

“And it turned out awfully, so... It doesn't exactly strike me as something I'm looking forward to doing again,” Connor said.

Kian rolled his eyes. “I think you're forgetting your own history. You and Natalie were great for a few months, and then you broke up. So what? Not all relationships are forever. You just have to work up the nerve to try again.”

The thing was, Connor had sworn off dating for at least the past five months. It had been okay. He'd worked on his coursework, made some great friends, bonded with his family, and gotten to know himself better. But what Kian didn't know was it wasn't Natalie that had warded him off dating—it was someone else entirely. And Connor didn't know when he would be ready to date again.

“Well, right now I don't know anyone well enough for that, so...”

“I get it, I get it.” Kian paused for a second before he said, “But there are some cute new freshmen on our floor, right?”

“Yeah,” Connor said, a bit too forcefully. He felt a blush creep up his neck.

“Whoa... it sounds like you have someone specific on your mind,” Kian teased. “C'mon, tell me. You're holding out, aren't you?”

“No, I'm not... A lot of them have very _affable_ personalities. That's all.”

“Nah, you think one of them is cute in a not-related-to-personality way. I know it.” When Connor didn't reply, Kian added, “Well, maybe in a personality-plus-pretty-eyes-and-nice-hair kind of way, Mr. Totally-Not-Shallow.”

Connor just shrugged and checked the time on his phone. “Look at that! Time to brush my teeth,” he declared and dashed out the door. Forgetting his toothbrush.

 

* * *

 

Connor had no doubt that Journalism 212: Human Interest Stories was bound to be his favorite class of the fall semester. He had it Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays from 9:15 to 10:20 each week. It was taught by Professor John Green, who also taught in the English and Creative Writing department, so he looked at journalism through a very inventive and unique lens. Connor loved the way he focused on the importance of language and emotions, rather than just straight facts.

Besides Professor Green, the teaching assistant was Louis Cole. Connor had seen him running around campus a lot last year, always with a video camera in hand. Louis was doing a combined major of film and journalism, and Professor Green was very interested in how story-telling through different mediums could affect the way human interest stories could be told.

“After we cover the basic concepts in the first few weeks, we'll be moving into carrying out the semester project. Each of you will be writing and compiling at least ten human interest stories, whether it is about students on campus, citizens on the street, even homeless individuals. You must come up with a theme for your stories and put them together into an organized and creative package.”

Already, some of the students glanced worriedly at one another. It certainly sounded like a demanding project, but Connor didn't feel nervous. He felt excited.

“I would especially love if you could involved different mediums and points of view into your project along with your writing. For example, as Louis is a film major, he could add in video-taped interviews. Photography, art and design, even statistics could play a role. It's truly up to you.”

Then Professor Green glanced out into the room of about thirty students and asked, “Are there any questions?”

As they'd only received the project that day, no one had much to ask. One girl asked whether they would have a final exam, but Professor Green said there wouldn't be because the project would be taking up eighty percent of their grade, along with one test on the basic concepts that would take place next month.

Connor's head was already spinning. He remembered the stories he'd done for the school paper last year as a freshman. He'd been very proud of his stories, and they'd related nicely to this project. He could interview students around campus again, get to their core. He was ready to get started.

After Professor Green talked a bit about journalistic integrity and some basic concepts, class was over. Connor had about an hour break before his next class, so he was in no rush. He was about to head out the door, as one of the last students, when Louis tapped him on the shoulder and stopped him. Connor glanced over his shoulder at the dread-locked older man.

“You're Connor, right?” asked Louis.

“Um, yes?” Connor didn't know how he knew his name, seeing as they'd never spoken before and none of the students had introduced themselves during class.

“I remember your stories from the paper last year. I was really impressed by what you did as a freshman.” Connor felt himself blush. That was kind of an amazing compliment.

“Wow, thanks so much. I enjoyed writing them.”

“I really liked the interviews you did about making friends in college, you know, with the different personality tests? It was a really unique perspective, and I think it could be really helpful to people.”

Connor was really proud of that story too. He'd met with kids with different Myers-Briggs personality types and examined how they made friends and how they felt about being in the vast new college environment.

“That means a lot. Thank you,” Connor said.

“I also really liked that personal editorial you did. About your breakup?”

“Ugh.” Connor flinched at the memory. “Sorry, I'm glad you liked it, but it just kind of makes me cringe now. It's kind of pathetic sounding.”

“No, I like honest stories, no matter how potentially pathetic they sound.” Louis laughed and Connor did too. “But what I really wanted to do was approach you and see if you'd like to help me with my own project.”

Connor raised an eyebrow. “Another project?” The one assigned already seemed like a lot of work, and he had a lot of other classes to juggle too.

“No, don't worry. It's not going to be a ton of extra work. It's my thesis project, and it actually is quite similar to what you're doing, except it's in the form of a film. I want to talk to as many students here as I can, interview them, film them. Put it all together some way—I'm not quite sure yet. But I need a hero, a protagonist, you know? Someone to pull it all together.”

“Wait... you, like, want me to be the star of your movie? Is that what you're saying?”

“This is strange and hard to explain, I know. But I can see it, I really can. You're very photogenic, you have the sort of friendly but thoughtful personality that could work just right. And don't ask me how I know this, but I feel you have a story to tell. I mean, everyone has a story, but I think yours... I think yours could be really compelling.”

“This sounds really odd.” Connor was unsure about the whole thing.

“Listen, I know. But I just want you to think about it. We can discuss this more later once you've given it some thought.”

“I, um... yeah. I'll think about it.” Connor adjusted the strap on his backpack and said, “And thanks for liking my stories. I'll see you around.”

“See you,” Louis said, as Connor went out the door of the auditorium.

As Connor walked down the street, the late summer sun practically baking him through his t-shirt and shorts, he started to think about Louis' idea. Really, it did sound interesting—a film about the students of NYU, all of their stories. But what could Louis possibly see in him, an ordinary sophomore who happened to write a few good stories for the school paper? What made him a suitable star for the movie?

And as for Connor's story being “compelling” according to Louis, what could that mean? It was all just really strange, but he couldn't help but think that it could be really amazing too.

 

* * *

 

Connor was feeling really good about his classes by the end of the day. Human Interest Stories was going to be really cool. His English class had a bunch of interesting books on the syllabus, and his Photography professor was awesome and hilarious. For Tuesdays, he only had Advanced French, which would be fun as well. He was happy with his schedule.

As he made his way back to his dorm though, he saw something. Something that made his stomach clench and his tongue lodge in his throat. It was him.

Connor forced his eyes down to the ground and tried to keep walking. He held his breath as he walked past, as if that could help him hide, help him disappear. But he still saw him.

“Hey,” said the other man, as if that would suffice. As if that could sum it up.

And in a way “hey” did.

It said, once upon a time we were everything to each other. We were each other's dirty little secret. We were something—we just couldn't figure out whether it was an experimental phase or the college sweetheart we'd tell our friends about.

But now we were just “hey,” and that was all we were allowed to be.

Look down, hold your breath, and don't you dare look up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! This story will have a bunch of plot along with the romance, so I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks, and I would love if you left a comment too!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I'm quite busy, but I will try to update as much as I can. If you have any suggestions or requests of what you might like to see, feel free to leave me a message over at ships-and-things.tumblr.com. Also, I'm just trying to have fun with this story, so if anyone is portrayed meanly or something it's not that I actually think they are that way. Every story needs conflict and that's all. Thank you for reading!


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